Page 92 of Their Master

“Shhh, don’t worry.” Smith cupped her face and gave her a reassuring smile. “I shall be fine.”

“But—”

“I’ll see to myself soon,” he said more firmly. “But first I need to finish here.”

Her face seemed to crumple and she clutched at his hand, squeezing it hard enough to shift the bones. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out. “I never expected any of this. We were supposed to take you back to France. Because of Sandrine.”

He gently pulled his hand free. “Go and stand with your sister, Moira.”

She hesitated, swallowed hard, and then obeyed.

Smith slipped on his shirt, waistcoat, and coat and waited while Luke buttoned the garments.

There was a commotion behind Malcolm and Edward—who were guarding the door like two massive gargoyles—and Gideon’s handsome face shoved between their shoulders. “Smith! Holy hell, you look like you went ten rounds and lost.”

Smith looked from Gideon’s grinning face to Edward and Malcolm and said one word. “Really?”

Malcolm shrugged. “Sorry. We needed four hands and Edward and I only had three between us,” he held up his gloved hands, one of which only had three fingers—as if Smith didn’t know what his hands looked like. “Besides,” said, the unmasked side of his mouth pulling into a grin. “He seemed keen enough.”

“What?” Gideon asked, his head whipping from man to man. “Why are the three of you smirking at me like—”

“Thibault!” a female voice screamed as a body shoved past Gideon and burst into the increasingly crowded room.

Moira stepped toward her. “Marie!”

But Marie Bardot had eyes for only one person and she hurried across the room—not sparing a glance for Moira, her bleeding son, or even her supposedly dead daughter.

“Thibaut! My God, I was so worried for you.” She flung herself at him.

Blois didn’t seem to notice he had a sobbing female attached to his body; he never took his hate-filled gaze off Smith.

“Well done keeping her restrained, Gideon,” Edward said dryly.

“Shebitme, Edward!” Gideon retorted, shaking his hand. “Do you have any idea how filthy the human mouth is? It’s a good thing I’m wearing gloves.”

“Go and get the other one,” Edward said. “Not that he’s in any shape to either biteorrun,” he added dryly.

Gideon huffed, but turned on his heel and left.

When Smith turned to Moira, he knew what he’d see. But that didn’t make it any less gut-wrenching. Both her and her brother were staring at their parents—if you could call them that—with yearning and disbelief. Only Sandrine regarded Blois and Bardot with cold contempt.

Everyone turned when Gideon dragged a filthy, barely moving bundle into the room.

“Where do you want him, Smith?” Gideon gagged. “He smells.Bad.”

“That’s far enough,” Smith said. “Lift up his head so Moira can see him.”

Gideon grabbed a handful of filthy pale blond hair and pulled it back from the man’s face.

Is that Mr. Brown?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Moira recoiled. “That’s him. That’s Brown.”

“This is actually Mr. Owen Onions.” Smith turned to Marie Bardot. “Do you recognize Mr. Onions, Madame?”

Bardot whipped around and spat in Smith’s face.

“Marie!” Moira gasped, staring at her mother with horror.

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